


smile for the cameras

by pekorama



Series: Let Him Under Your Skin (Reddie Ficlets) [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, High School AU, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, swears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 00:42:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12377451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pekorama/pseuds/pekorama
Summary: A first kiss gone wrong creates a rift between Richie and Eddie.





	smile for the cameras

Eddie’s head felt like it had been emptied out and overstuffed with cotton. Thoughts scattered in his mind, frantic, echoing in his head, sounding like crackling static. The same thought, repeated again and again, the loudest of all (so loud it sounded like someone else were screaming from inside his brain): _**See Eddie. See Eddie kiss one of his best friends. See Eddie run.** Because that’s all you ever fucking do. You run away. And you’d run faster if you could only breathe right, eh wheezy?_

Sometimes the thoughts in Eddie’s head scared him a lot. So much so that the asthmatic often took a weird sort of comfort in pretending that those thoughts were the remnants of Pennywise. Just a stupid ghost... clown… ghost of a clown, something evil and alien to take the blame. Somehow, that was easier to swallow than the fact that the clown had been dead for four years, so it had to be his own brain whispering sweet nothings, sweet ‘ _you’re just fucking nothing_ ’s in his ear.

He clenched his hands into clammy fists, hugging his knees to his chest and burying his head in the comforting darkness. He stared into that blackness until he saw spots. He was dimly aware that he was breathing properly, finally. That’s all that really mattered. He was breathing again, even if the air rattled stalely in his lungs. The acrid taste of his inhaler still clung to his mouth.

_Don’t think about it._

_Don’t think about him._ (run instead, why don’t you?)

“... ds…”

_Think about anything else, Eddie. Think about the fact that you’re sitting on the floor of the boy’s locker room, which is probably infested with germs and sweat and fuck, probably AIDs? At the very least athlete’s foot. Even thinking about that is better than thinking about the fact that Richie’s never going to fucking talk to you again. How could you do that to him in front of everybody?_

“Eddie.”

_How could he reject you in front of everybody?_

“Earth to Eds?”

“Don’t ca — uh.” The words died on his lips as quickly as they’d come. Eddie’s head snapped upward, and his stare froze on a pair of recognizably scuffed converse standing a few feet away from him. Converse that led to those same old ripped jeans, to that tacky shirt, to that wavy hair.

And that familiar, pretty face.

“ _Richie,_ ” he breathed, too scared to be relieved, “what are you doing here?”

Richie grinned and pushed his coke bottle glasses up on the bridge of his nose. His smile was genuine, not angry, not awkward. _Leave it to Richie to act like everything's a-fucking okay. It’s not though, it can’t be. I kissed him in front of everybody and he just looked… scared._

The memory flashed briefly in his mind. Homecoming dance, senior year. A packed gym, immodest decorations, spiked punch. A recipe for disaster. The whole thing didn’t even feel real. It felt more like some bizarre dream. 

Richie’s voice came just as gleefully as ever, “I’ve been looking for _you_ , numbnuts!” he joked, and immediately launched into his shitty Foghorn Leghorn-esque voice, “y’see, if ah didn’t know any bettah, Eddie Bear, ah’d say you’d been avoidin’ me.” When Eddie only blinked at him, his expression blank, Richie’s smile faded. His voice returned to normal, if not a bit hurt. “Why?”

Eddie flushed, suddenly feeling the need to avoid Richie’s eyes. He opted to inspect his own hands instead. He ignored the urge to ask Richie to sit down; Something about sitting when someone else was standing always made Eddie feel boxed in, anxious. (nowhere to run) He swallowed, harder than he expected, and muttered, “I think you know why.” It came out sounding just as pathetic as he felt.

_Because I_

_I made a mistake_

It took a while for Richie to find a reply. The silence scared Eddie, his mind immediately jumping to the conclusion that Richie must have just abandoned ship, left the room, and left for good. But he didn’t, and the words finally came. “What happened doesn’t change anything, Eddie,” he said warmly, and crouched down, fixing Eddie with a reassuring smile. Richie’s voice, his actions, his everything was always a lot more earnest when they were alone. He could be genuine, as long as there wasn’t an audience to entertain. A sick sense of realization washed over Eddie: _He’s afraid. He’s more afraid than I am. He can’t let anybody down, and loving me would be the biggest disappointment of all. (bingo, wheezy)_

Richie was trying to be helpful, he really was. Eddie knew that somewhere deep down, but when he added “We’re friends, Eds. We’ll always be friends. It doesn’t matter that you kissed...” as if to rub salt in the wound, something just snapped.

“I _wanted_ things to change,” Eddie said, locking eyes with Richie and speaking with an icy calmness that scared even himself, “But okay, I can play along.” He grinned widely, resentment bubbled black in his chest. He stood up suddenly, clenching his fists. Richie rose from his haunches, towering over Eddie by at least a foot. Eddie didn’t flinch, but laughed bitterly. The sound of his wavering voice echoing through the locker-lined rows. “Let’s just smile, and nod, and keep pretending that we’re just friends until this all goes away.” Eddie threw up his hands, gesturing to the empty room. He bit his lip hard, blinking away tears, embracing the coppery taste of blood flowing into his mouth. “Everybody smile for the fucking cameras, because Trashmouth can’t take any bad press.”

“You know that’s not what I meant, Eds.” He chuckled, trying desperately to sound less hurt than he felt. 

“ _Don’t!_ ” Eddie shouted, holding a finger up. Richie winced and shrank back, becoming uncharacteristically small. He looked urgently from Eddie, to the locker room door, and back to Eddie. His expression said ‘please, please be quiet’, but Eddie continued. “Don’t you _dare_ fucking call me that, Tozier. _You...you…_ you get my hopes up! You get my hopes up that maybe there’s a chance for us. And it makes me too sad! ... You make me sad.”

“They’re going to hear us -”

“Why do you care so much about what they think of you?” Eddie asked, staring at him in disbelief. His entire body trembled like a leaf. Tears welled in his eyes and leaked down his face in persistent streams. The anger had left his voice. Now it just sounded broken. “What are you worried they’ll hear?” He shrugged limply, his lips pulled into a thin, sad smile. “That I like you? I think they already know after the shit I pulled at the dance. And I’m sorry, I really am. That wasn’t fair to you. But I just... need you to _tell_ me.”

“Tell you _what?_ ” Richie hissed.

“That you don’t feel the same way about me.”

Richie’s breath hitched. They stared at each other for a long time, Eddie’s question hanging heavy in the air. Then Richie, keeping his eyes trained on Eddie the whole time, turned to the doors leading into the hall where a crowd was probably forming on the other side, drawn by the yelling. He spoke to them, and not to Eddie.

“I _don’t. _” Richie said loudly. His voice was stern, but Eddie could see in the comical magnification of his glasses that Richie was crying. In a whisper only the other boy could hear, he added, “I’m sorry, Eds. I can’t do this.”__

__Eddie didn’t bother correct him. He couldn’t bring himself to say a damn thing._ _

__He just watched him go._ _


End file.
